


light my fire

by ranchboiii



Series: Sheith Valentine's Exchange 2019 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Established Relationship, M/M, side Allurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-23 21:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranchboiii/pseuds/ranchboiii
Summary: So there's this really hot firefighter named Keith.





	light my fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [studio_mugen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=studio_mugen).



> This is for [@studio_mugen](https://twitter.com/studio_mugen) !!! I really adored all your prompts, so I ended up writing two of them... I hope either or both of them can appeal to you in some way. Happy Sheith Valentine's exchange!!!!!!!!

Shiro sits at his desk sifting through what feels like an endless stack of paperwork detailing the myriad misdemeanors of the city’s various criminal circles. Across from him, Allura raises a sympathetic eyebrow, her own desk in similar disarray. He organizes five separate piles to try and streamline his work flow, even pours himself a third cup of coffee. But right when he is about to dig into the venal crimes stack, his radio hisses with the rapporteur cadence of emergency dispatch detailing a fire on Lowland and Cherry. His body stiffens at the call and Allura snorts, but he shushes her, waiting for the rest of the message.

“Dispatch calling Engines 5, 9, and 12, requesting back up on Lowland for Firehouse Seven.”

Shiro’s inhale hitches in his throat, his held breath like a coat on a rack waiting to be collected at a later hour.

“Engine 5 calling dispatch, on our way,” comes a smoky voice from over the comm. It’s a voice that Shiro knows well, and it twists something anticipatory in his heart, holds a sparkling shiv to his throat, threatens to spill butterflies from his stomach.

“Command calling dispatch, requesting police presence on site due to suspected arson.”

“Precinct One-Four calling Command, sending a team now,” Shiro says into the radio. He takes his hand off the button and looks at Allura expectantly. Then, with heaving affection and a dreamy look in his eyes, he sighs, “I love arson.”

“You really shouldn’t say that,” Allura says, leaping from her chair to shrug on her jacket at the first sign of action all week. “And you’re supposed to wait for dispatch to relay the message!”

They take Allura’s car because she’s the better driver and because Shiro would have a fit if he had to split his attention between the road and the crime scene. Sirens blaring, they weave through choppy, reliably steady traffic, zipping through intersections and alleys until they roll down Lowland where black billowing clouds can be seen from several streets away.

“Do you have your mask?” Allura asks as they pull over, but Shiro’s out of the car before he can hear the end of her sentence. Trotting directly over to the police barrier, he waves to a few friends, flashes his badge at others, hops the line and shakes hands with command. He scans the building, taking in all the details he can before it’s charred and dusty. Then he looks for Engine five.

Engine five is the red and glittering platonic ideal of a firetruck, shiny and clean despite the surrounding smoke. They have decent control of the fire, keeping it contained to a single building. Standing at the end of the main hose helping directing its flow is the most handsome man Shiro has ever seen in his entire life.

His name is Keith and he is a lieutenant at a firehouse near Shiro’s precinct. They first met at the end of a medium-speed car chase through town where the driver in pursuit slammed into a median but skirted death by leaping from his car and into a tree. Keith’s team got him down, Shiro’s took him in. It was the kind of absurd and fortuitous event that Shiro would never forget. 

Even now, those same feelings burn in his chest: Keith is the kind of hot-headed bad boy who’s perfect for his job, from his svelte body to his smoke-black hair to the exigent blaze in his eyes.

It isn’t the time to be mooning over a fellow man of the law, but Shiro allows a minute longer to indulge nonetheless. When Allura joins him at his side, he gathers himself and stands a little taller in hopes that Keith might glance his way when the fire goes out. Better yet, he may even get the chance to talk with him about the potential case on their hands.

“You good?” Allura asks over the orotund yawning of the building’s injured infrastructure. A wood beam snaps particularly loudly and brings his thoughts back to the situation at hand.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Not stressed at all?” She hands him a respirator mask and he dutifully puts it on, thanking her.

“I’m okay for now.”

“And not distracted in any way?”

“I’m totally focused,” Shiro nods, drifting again as his eyes trace over the way Keith hands off the hose to his teammate so he can help maneuver the ladder. It’s hypnotic how economic his movements are as he shimmies up to the top of the truck.

“Right,” Allura sighs, opening a notebook and clicking a pen several times as a small means of catharsis.

It’s not long before the fire is ultimately subdued and they’ve spoken to everyone present, having successfully interviewed the necessary folks, including the safely evacuated occupants as well as a few witnesses to the arsonist proper. Shiro racks his brain, trying to predict the arsonist’s next move.

As he does so, someone taps him on the shoulder. Thinking it’s Allura, he turns on his heel and starts listing off their urgent to-do list, but he stops in his tracks when he sees who actually beckoned him. It’s Keith, a little dirty, a little dusty, tunic tied around his lithe waist. Between his gloves and thin undershirt, Shiro can see the crisp definition of his lean musculature.

“Hey detective.”

Between Keith’s greeting and Shiro’s stunned silence, the building cracks like the last ten seconds of microwave popcorn.

“Hello lieutenant,” Shiro grins when he finally can feel the ground under him again. As disorienting as it is, he hopes he never stops experiencing this buoyant feeling. “Nice work out there.”

“Thanks,” Keith smirks, a mask for the genuinely fond smile lurking below it. “Get enough information on who did this? Think you can catch them?”

“That would be classified information, lieutenant,” Shiro replies, schooling his expression to something more serious and refined as Command walks past him and Keith.

“Sounds complicated,” Keith shrugs, crossing his arms and looking over his work again. Behind him, the company is packing up the truck and making to leave. “Maybe you could teach me about it sometime.”

Shiro’s heart skips a beat. _Two beats._ “I’m amenable.”

“Keith!” A familiar voice shouts from the front seat of the car. “Stop flirting and drive us back already! The incident report for this is going to take forever and we missed lunch by a mile!”

“In a second, Lance,” Keith calls back, subtly flipping off his coworker and turning back to Shiro.

“Remind me, officer,” he adds playfully, absently thumbing the gold on his ring finger. “Who’s turn is it to cook dinner again?” 

“Mine,” Shiro lies, but Keith’s had a long day that sounds like it’s about to last even longer. “Is there something special you wanted?”

Keith pointedly looks him up and down with a look so absolutely filthy Shiro feels it burn low in his gut. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

Shiro can’t help himself; he cradles Keith’s face with his right hand, keeps him steady while he leans in for the kiss he’s been missing since he left early for work this morning.

“Detective, so unprofessional,” Keith chides, smiling and leaning into the kiss anyway.

“I’ll say,” Allura agrees, only slightly exasperated as she arrives to collect Shiro.

“Better keep him on a tighter leash,” Keith says smugly.

“Detective Alforsen!” Lance screams from the firetruck where he honks the horn three times, a paradigm of comedic timing. “Looking good!”

“I could say the same about your company,” Allura notes. “Lance and I will see you on Saturday for game night.”

“Bye baby,” Shiro says to Keith, having an incredibly difficult time keeping his hands to himself.

“See you tonight,” Keith replies, turning on his heel and jogging toward the truck to break the tension between Lance’s ardent honking and the rest of the crew’s disdain for the noise pollution.

“Ready to go?” Allura asks. “I think we’ve got a good lead on this perp.”

“Lead the way. And help me think of what to make for dinner tonight,” Shiro nudges her in the side on their way to the car, thinking about Keith and cooking and love.

*


End file.
